


Dec 8: In the Wind

by fleurofthecourt



Series: White Collar Advent calendar drabbles [8]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Endings, F/M, Family, Fluff, M/M, Multi, New Beginnings, On the Run, White Collar Advent 2014, White Collar Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter, Neal, El, and Mozzie go on the run together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dec 8: In the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me wanted to save this for my last drabble and part of me really didn't want to end here (there's also the whole needing to write more drabbles thing... but that's beside the point...)

“Sure you’re ready for this? Aiding and abetting a criminal?” Neal asks as he rests his hand on the sliding door of an old, beat up Ford Aerostar. 

“I think I have been for a long time,” Peter’s hand comes to rest on top of Neal’s. “Otherwise, you’d have gone back to prison a long, long, long, long time ago.” 

“I think that’s enough longs,” Neal says. 

“Not sure it’s enough,” Peter says as they slide the door open together. 

“Hey Butch, Sundance, may I remind you that we’re on the run?” Mozzie motions for them to hurry up. “Time is of the essence.” 

“No one is going to know we’re gone just yet,” Neal says as he perches his leg on the van’s runner and pulls up the fabric of his pants. “If you’ll do the honors.” 

With a wry grin, Peter pulls the anklet’s key from his pocket then reaches down to unlock it. 

“Still a strange sensation,” Neal says as he rubs at the newly bare and rather raw, chafed skin. “Though this seems different somehow.” 

“Yeah, there’s no possibility of you getting it back,” Peter says as he sets it unceremoniously on the sidewalk. Neal takes the key and throws it expertly into an open drain. It hits against the metal with a satisfying clink before falling through the grate. 

“There’s no possibility of you getting this back, either,” Neal says, as he picks Peter’s FBI badge out of his pocket and extends it before him. 

“I know,” Peter says. He sighs deeply. “I know.” 

He folds the badge shut and sets it on the sidewalk next to Neal’s anklet. 

“It feels like the end of an era,” El says as she leans out the window with her phone. She snaps a photo of the badge lying next to the anklet. Then with the sound of sirens echoing in the distance, she ducks back in, “And the start of a new one.”


End file.
